He continued, “Soon we shall be assembling a large convoy of merchant ships bound for England which will have to be protected, maybe they are hoping to make a combined attack on that. They are an ever present threat and with so few warships under my command I am at my wits end to keep a naval presence in all the places we should be. Of course I am under pressure from the owners of those ships to provide as strong a force of my ships as possible to protect them. So you can see why I had hoped to have your ship available.”
Now, you ask for citrus fruit eh! Lieutenant, are you one of those who think it will prevent scurvy?” “Indeed I am Sir,” replied Merriman “I am convinced of it and I believe the Admiralty has come round to that way of thinking. You will probably receive orders to that effect, maybe in these new dispatches and they may well inform you that we are again at war with France”
As they walked back to the quayside Grahame commented “Well that went better than expected, the Admiral proved to be no problem after all. Anyway I must visit one of my people here, a merchant by the name of Jonah Cornwall to see what he knows. He will arrange the supply of fruit, from a yellow fever free area I hope. So James, you can go back to the ship and wait for me to appear back on the quay with the fruit and you can send a boat for me. I would be grateful if you could send one of your men with me in case I need to send a message back to you”
As soon as he returned to the ship Grahame immediately called Merriman below for a conference and began, “James, it seems to be worse than I thought. England has only Jamaica left in the Greater Antilles, France and Spain have most of the rest including Hispaniola, Puerto Rico and Cuba. In the Lesser Antilles, we have only scattered possessions Antigua where we are now, and Barbados are the most important. There are smaller islands under our control but none of that much importance. Both France and Spain have surrounding islands, Guadeloupe, St Lucia and Martinique being the biggest. As you know our fleet and squadrons are stretched to the limit patrolling all the Windward Islands and up into the Leeward Islands.” Here he paused for a sip of orange juice and then continued, “The main problem all over the Indies is that there is a bigger population of African slaves than there is of white managers, overseers and owners of the plantations and it is those slaves who are in revolt. The result is that many white people fear for their lives and many have fled or been killed. Production of sugar, tobacco and other exports to England has almost ceased in many places. The Government and the Navy are under increasing pressure from rich and titled owners to do something about it. Of course we know that French revolutionaries are behind most of the slave revolts with their message of freedom and equality for all. Mr. Cornwall has gathered news of many places but I think we had better start our investigations here and then where ever our information will direct us.”
“It sounds desperate Sir,” replied Merriman, if we are forced out of these places we have little hope of keeping any control in the area. Antigua has the only good shipyard for repairs and stores available for the fleet.”
Both men sat silently for some time. Merriman tugging at his ear, a habit of his when confronted with a problem that needed deep thought. “What details has Mr. Cornwall found out here which may give us a start?” “Not a lot that’s definite I’m afraid. He has a good idea where some of the French may be found, in a particular sailors bar known as “The Harlot’s Arms” in the worst part of town but he is too well known as a fairly wealthy man to venture down there. He could be robbed or even murdered.”
Normally there would have been an invitation from the Admiral or the Governor for Merriman and his officers to join them for dinner, but none was forthcoming and Grahame and Merriman sat up late discussing what action to take.
Chapter 11 - Antigua. French spies captured
The ship remained at anchor in English Harbour all the next day, whilst the watering and supply barges attended to her needs. Normal shipboard maintenance and life continued with the only excitement being when after repeated threats to keep away had been ignored, a marine dropped a small cannonball into a persistent trader’s boat. The wretched man only just managed to paddle ashore before his craft sank
Under cover of dark, one of the smallest ship’s boats rowed by two burly seamen with a petty officer in charge, landed Mr. Grahame, Owen and two other seamen, Matthews and Jackson at a dark and deserted part of the harbour. Grahame was dressed as a seaman and they all carried weapons of one sort or another. Leaving the boat with orders to wait they headed towards a street which was lit by light streaming through filthy windows of taverns and looked for the particular bar Grahame had been told about. They pushed their way inside into a dense throng of men, mostly seamen by their dress. Their purpose was to see if they could hear any French being spoken or hear anything which might be useful. But the noise, singing and shouting and the thick tobacco smoke made it almost impossible. Having been warned of the dangers in drinking the locally made rum they all drank some of the indifferent ale and trying to look as if they belonged there they looked around them. Nobody was taking the slightest bit of notice of them and not hearing or seeing anything useful they left to try another tavern.
Nothing was heard or seen in several other taverns and so, disappointed, they returned to the ship. Merriman met them as they came aboard but could tell from their shaken heads that the foray ashore had been no good. He called Grahame down to his cabin to hear what had happened. “Nothing happened James, nothing whatsoever. It was a waste of time, we must think of something else. I don‘t think I can face drinking any more of that stuff they call ale,” he said sipping at a cup of coffee provided by Peters.
“I have an idea” said Merriman “but I can’t help you with it as I don’t speak enough French. The man we captured in the Irish Sea, O’Flynn is trying to teach me but I am very far from fluent. You do speak the language Sir, perhaps if you go into that tavern again, with O’Flynn, alone but with Owen and the rest close by you might speak a few words in French and hope that any Frenchman there will hear you and speak to you. I can think of nothing better Sir.”
“It’s the best idea so far James, I’ll sleep on it and we may try it tomorrow night.” In the event Grahame decided to go ahead with the plan and O’Flynn was brought into Merriman’s cabin and told what was expected of him and what would befall him if he did anything to betray them. “Oh no Sir, I won’t, you can rely on me Sir. Anyway I don’t want to go back to France, I’ve nothing to go back there for and I could be executed as a traitor Sir.” He was referring to the fact that under the threat of hanging he had revealed details of the French plans in the Irish Sea.
It was decided that Grahame and O’Flynn would go ashore again but beside Owen, Thomas and Mathews the boat would take a party of well-armed seamen to remain concealed close at hand in case of trouble.
Chapter 12 - Antigua. French Spies discovered
Entering the tavern again the following night Grahame and O’Flynn bought ale and tried to find a quiet corner. They were earlier than the previous night and the place was not so full and noisy as before. Grahame could see his other three men in a group, drinking ale quite separate from him but close enough to help if needed. Some time passed and then O’Flynn began to act as though he was drunk, standing up, swaying and speaking louder and occasionally lapsing into French. Pretending to be nervous, Grahame assumed a guilty, furtive look and dragged him down into his seat.
Nothing happened for a while; O’Flynn continued to mumble curses in French. Grahame tried to look as though he was quietening the man but he noted a group of three men at another table who were taking an interest in them. Finally when O’Flynn climbed to his feet and started shouting again they came over, one put his hand over the man’s mouth and the other two grabbed his arms and dragged him outside, motioning for Grahame to follow. They dragged O’Flynn into a dirty, ill lit alley behind the tavern and whilst one of the men held him the other two speaking French asked Grahame who he was. “Pierre Peabody I am, just a common man, why do you want to kn
ow?” The man looked him up and down and said “Never you mind why, you have an English name yet you speak French but with a funny accent, why is that?” Grahame could see that O’Flynn was apparently near collapse and the man holding him had let him go but he knew that O’Flynn was only acting which was confirmed by the surreptitious wink he gave and he also noticed Owen and his other men lounging at the corner, ready for his signal.
“French is my second language after German, that’s why, and I speak English as well,” replied Grahame, “What do you want with me and me mate? We‘ve done you no ‘arm.” “If you really are who you say you are you might be of use to us” replied the man. “Your mate is obviously a native Frenchman judging by his volubility in swearing in French but I’m not too sure about you.”
“How can we help you? What would you want us to do?” asked Grahame in his strange French accent. “Be here tomorrow night and tell nobody about this, nothing, do you understand?” said the man. Grahame nodded and the three men disappeared into the dark. He looked at O’Flynn who was snoring gently, all part of the act he supposed. He knew they might be watched so he made a show of hoisting the man to his feet and half carrying him made his way back into the tavern He saw Owen and his two companions in a group by the bar. Owen saw him and made a move towards him but Grahame gave a very small shake of his head to stop any contact.
Dumping O’Flynn on a seat at a vacant table he made his way to the rudimentary bar where he managed to get himself shoulder to shoulder with Owen and ordered two drinks. Hoping any watcher would think it was idle conversation he told Owen to go but to be back tomorrow night with the large party of seamen and some Marines. He returned to O’Flynn with the drinks and shook him as though waking him. The man was wide awake instantly but looked as though he had just woken. Grahame told him what had transpired and after a few more drinks they left to look for somewhere they could sleep for the night.
Chapter 13 - High Winds, Deserters and French Spies
Meanwhile, back on the ship Merriman was desperately worried. Would Grahame learn anything of interest? Would the men return safely? He paced up and down the quarterdeck tugging at his ear and with such a scowl on his face that the duty watch made sure to keep safely to the other side of the deck and in the shadows. Owen had reported what had happened and that he had been told to be there the next night with the extra men but could tell him little more.
Question after question passed through his mind. Was Grahame’s agent Mr. Cornwall an honest man? Had he betrayed Grahame to the French and American privateers? What should he do if Grahame did not return? Exhausted he stumbled down to his cabin, threw off his coat and fell onto his cot to fall asleep instantly. He awoke to the usual shipboard noises and the smell of coffee. He was astounded to find that the sunlight was streaming in through the stern windows and to find his man Peters hovering about with a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a cup on a tray.
Merriman struggled to his feet, gave a prodigious yawn, stretched and sniffed the air. “By God Peters, that smells good, it should wake me up properly. What have you got for my breakfast?” he said, draining the first cup and holding it out for more. “Your favourite Sir, some pork fried with breadcrumbs and onions, and some fresh butter on a ship’s biscuit Sir.”
The coffee indeed worked wonders and Merriman felt ready for the day. “Right Peters, I’ll have my breakfast right away and then you can shave me and I’ll change into fresh clothes.” After a shave and in fresh clothes Merriman stepped out onto the quarter deck feeling like a new man and his mind made up as to what he should do. Every man immediately tried to look as busy as possible. Lieutenant Laing who was the officer of the watch crossed towards him.
“Good morning Sir, I trust you have had a good night.” “Excellent thank you, I didn’t think I would but I slept like log.” Merriman coughed deliberately, annoyed with himself for unbending so far as to discuss his sleeping arrangements with a junior officer, even his first Lieutenant. He looked across the harbour, then up at the sky, sniffed the air and said “Mr. Laing I think we shall have some bad weather soon. I don’t like the look of that line of dark clouds to the east. Pass the word for the Master if you please.”
“You sent for me sir?” said Mr. Cuthbert when he arrived on deck, “Yes I did, what do you make of that dark line of cloud out there to the east?” The master took only a moment to make up his mind, “We’re in for a blow Sir, a gale and a bad one if I’m any judge. I’ve seen it before when I was here some years ago. The ship will be safe enough where it is but I think we should check all the lashings on everything that’s tied down. See the other ships Sir, they are doing it.” It was so, men could be seen laying out on the yards checking the sail ties and men in boats were rowing out to lay extra anchors. “Thank you Mr. Cuthbert, Mr. Laing, you will see to it that all that is needed is done. We‘ll have all hands on deck.”
“Aye-Aye Sir.” Laing spun round and started shouting orders. At once men boiled up from below with Laing giving orders to all Officers and Petty Officers who in turn bellowed orders to the crew. Lashings on all the guns were reinforced, anything moveable taken below and men were aloft checking everything. The boats hastily brought on board and secured with extra lashings. The galley fire was extinguished and hatch covers securely fastened.
Merriman watched everything with his eagle eye which missed nothing. The noise and bustle died away as the first Lieutenant reported all had been done. “Very good Mr. Laing, as you can see, the gale is almost upon us.” Indeed the bank of dark clouds was nearing rapidly, as the sun disappeared behind the flying clouds which preceded it. A powerful wind had risen and the black clouds were soon overhead releasing a torrent of rainwater which instantly soaked everyone on deck who had not had a chance to find cover. Even in the harbour which was very well sheltered the ships were pounded by the wind and rain.
Merriman had fled down to his cabin to change from his uniform into an old one and was back on deck, dressed in tarpaulins and clutching grimly to the quarter deck rail as he tried to see if anything was amiss, but all was well. He was conscious of Midshipman Shrigley grimly holding on to the Pinrail round the base of the Mizzen mast After only a few hours the rain ceased and the sun came out again. Shrigley shook himself like wet dog and ventured to speak. “Have you been out here before Sir and is it always like this?”
“Indeed I have young man. I was a midshipman like you, aboard Admiral Rodney's flagship Formidable at the Battle of the Saintes in the Dominica channel between Dominica and Guadeloupe. Seventeen ninety two that was and we roundly trounced the French fleet. As for the weather we take what comes tho' it is always warmer than the Channel. Now be off with you and dry yourself off.”
Shrigley fled below, secretly marveling that his strict Captain had unbent enough to tell him about being a midshipman at the Saintes. What a tale he would have to tell his fellow midshipman Oakley.
The temperature rose quickly and steam began to rise from all over the deck and upper works which were soon dry as once again the heat became almost unbearable. Merriman almost envied the seamen working stripped to the waist, his shirt was sodden with sweat but all he could do was unfasten it and try to find some shade, as his cabin was like an oven.
The day passed slowly and then night fell as rapidly as usual and the cutter with Owen and the other seamen and marines with their sergeant aboard left the ship with the Second Lieutenant, David Andrews snarling at them to stop chattering and keep silent. Merriman paced the deck in a fever of worry whilst trying desperately not to let his officers see his agitation. He tried to fill his mind with thoughts of home but he knew that he would hear nothing for many weeks until the Naval post caught up with them, if it ever did. It was nearly dawn before the lookout on the larboard quarter called to report a boat approaching and Laing called the duty watch of marines to the entry port in case of trouble. It was the cutter with what seemed to be filled with more men than it had when it left the ship.
Mr. Grahame climbed wear
ily aboard followed by the seamen, some sporting grubby bandages and in the middle of them a group of four men with the abject appearance of prisoners. The marines took charge of them and took them below. “Watch them carefully, they are a mixture of French, Spanish and some English deserters, put them in irons,” said Grahame to the marine Lieutenant, “And the body in the boat will have to be dealt with,” before he followed Merriman down to his cabin where he almost fell into a chair he was so exhausted. Peters, Merriman’s servant, appeared out of his hidey-hole and produced a jug of hot coffee.
“My God! I needed that,” said Grahame after finishing his first cupful in one great draught and holding it out for more. Merriman could hardly wait to hear how the night’s events had unfolded and sat down then stood up again and fiddled with things on his desk until Grahame said “Do sit down James, I’ll tell you everything when I’ve finished this coffee. Is there any more Peters?” “I’ll make some more Sir, right away,” said the man and he disappeared again with the empty jug.
“Now then James, it was a most successful night. All happened exactly as we hoped. We waited in the “Harlot’s Arms”, that is the inn James - not a woman - until the same three men came in and ordered O’Flynn and myself to follow them. They took us to a ramshackle building with a lantern over the door and pushed us inside. I saw Jackson following us in the shadows and was able to signal him by taking off my hat and scratching my head as arranged. Did you know James, that man used to be a poacher, moved in the darkness like a cat. I only saw him because I was looking for him. Anyway, inside the only room there were four other men waiting for us, talking in French and I heard one say something like “It’s all going our way in Jamaica,” before they stopped talking and began to question us. We told them the same as we had told them the other night and managed to spin it out until there was a pounding on the door and a voice shouting “Open in the name of the King.””
The Threat in the West Indies (The Merriman Chronicles Book 4) Page 5